


Following the Storm

by pherryt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bonds, Familiar!Benny, M/M, Magic, Modern Fantasy, Multi, Shapeshifting, Storms, cat!benny, cat!dean, familiar!dean, future dean/cas/benny, sort of mindreading/empathic reading, witch!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 03:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15964016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Castiel lives alone and works at a bookstore and it's his favorite time of the year. He's content enough with his simple life, so he thinks.He doesn't expect his life to change with a single Autumn storm. Magic isn't real!Right?





	Following the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rw_eaden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rw_eaden/gifts).



> For the Rose-Fic-O-Ween:
> 
> 16) A small animal follows Character A home one night. Character A thinks nothing of it, and lets the animal inside and gives it something to eat and a warm place to sleep. Pretty typical, right? Well, that would be until Character A wakes up to find their animal companion gone and a stranger standing in their kitchen. Naked.
> 
> I've been wanting to do a witch/familiar story for a while. this seemed PERFECT for it.

Castiel hurried down the sidewalk, pulling his tan trenchcoat closer to his body against the wind. He loved autumn. The colors, the leaves, the atmosphere. Curling up in front of his fireplace with a cozy blanket, a warm mug of spiced apple cider in his hand, the scent of pumpkin and cinnamon in the air.

Yes, autumn was absolutely his favorite season.

Usually.

Today, however, there’d been flash storms all day, flooding the streets and knocking out the power multiple times. He’d heard sirens again and again while he worked at the bookstore as they careened down the road.

After the last outage, even Mr. Singer couldn’t deny it was pointless and he’d sent Castiel home and locked up. Castiel took one dubious look up at the sky and hadn’t wasted any time on his walk home.

Which was sad, because that was usually one of the most enjoyable bits of his day.

Thunder rolled overhead even as he picked up the pace, hoping to get home before the sky opened up once more. Of course, that was when he felt the first few big drops hit his face, nearly blinding him when they covered his glasses.

And _of course_ he hadn’t brought his umbrella out.

Why should he have? It had seemed like such a nice, crisp fall day when he’d woken that morning. Just the right amount of blustering wind to shift the leaves along the ground into hypnotizing patterns as he walked. The air cool with just enough of a warming sun to take the edge off.

Absolutely perfect.

So no. Castiel had not thought to bring his umbrella and now he was mourning that mistake as the sky did, indeed, open up, drenching him thoroughly. _So much for getting home before I got wet_ , he thought with a sigh. Still, he shaded his glasses from the rain as best he could and continued to walk quickly – nobody liked being stuck in wet clothes – until something moving out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

But when he turned, there was nobody there.

He blinked and looked around. He was the only one on the darkening street as the power flickered around him again, a streetlamp making a valiant effort to stay on before giving up the ghost.

Suddenly unnerved, he kept moving, the wind pushing hard at his back.

It was stupid. He walked this route at least twice a day five days a week at all different hours of the day. The neighborhood was good; the shops and neighbors friendly. There was nothing to fear.

But then something moved again and he froze.

He looked about, but there still wasn’t anyth - _no wait…_

It was a cat. A rather wet and bedraggled cat with green eyes. It was too dark to make out much else but the eyes – they stared at him, the ears turned down dejectedly as it shivered in the rain.

Instantly, Castiel stopped feeling sorry for himself. He turned and approached the cat slowly, bending slightly and holding out his hand.

“Hey there, kitty,” he said softly. “Do you have a home? I think it’s going to get worse out here.” The cat blinked its green eyes at him and poked its nose forward, sniffing his fingers and then suddenly butting its head against Castiel’s hand.

Wet though it was, the cat’s fur was soft and Castiel couldn’t hold back the pleased chuckle. He’d always loved animals, but anytime he’d gone to a pet store or a breeder to find a companion for himself, none of them had ever felt right, or they’d been afraid of him, and he’d inevitably gone home alone. He’d long since given up, simply accepting that he was just too picky to have a pet.

He scratched behind the cat’s ears and smiled, but another rumble of thunder made him jump in surprise, falling on his ass. The cat skittered backwards and he sighed sadly. He’d scared another one. Castiel got his feet back under himself and he brushed himself off reflexively, though it did no good. With a last glance at the cat, hoping it would find somewhere safe and dry to hole up, Castiel resumed his walk.

Castiel’s path took him to the further edges of the small town, his little tiny house one of the last on it’s block. He didn’t mind the distance, or the size of his house. It was one that had been passed down in his family and the backyard jutted up against the woods, making a beautiful fall spectacle every year.

As he turned down his street, he noted that the power was completely out here and with the strangely thick and dark clouds that covered the early evening sky, he barely had enough light to make his way.

But his feet knew where they were taking him and he walked with confidence.

It wasn’t until he reached his yard and pushed open the metal gate that he realized he’d been followed.

The cat Castiel had thought he’d left behind darted between his legs and up the cobblestone path, bounding up the three steps to the porch and then sat right by the front door, safely out of the rain.

Castiel blinked, stunned at the sight of the cat waiting for him by the door. It cocked its head at him and Castiel shook his head and hurried up the steps, shaking his keys loose and unlocking the door. The cat was inside before he’d managed to crack it open more than a couple of inches, squeezing through impatiently.

He followed behind the cat, closing the door firmly against a wind that tried to whip it out of his hand. Shucking his coat, he hung it on the hook on the back of the door as the wind howled and knocked against the house, as if angry it wasn’t allowed inside.

Knowing his own little cottage like the back of his hand, Castiel made his way to the kitchen where he kept his matches and his candles and that one lantern he’d bought for aesthetic reasons but was now really grateful for. Fumbling about in the dark, he nevertheless managed to light a couple of candles and then the lantern, turning only to trip over the cat that was twining about his legs.

“I don’t have any cat food,” he explained. The cat simply meowed at him. “Look, you’re welcome to stay. I would never toss you out in that weather, but I don’t have anything for you. No toys, or a scratching post or a litterbox.”

Castiel moved to the pantry, setting the lantern on the counter beside it. It cast odd, long shadows over everything and he paused to find a towel to clear off his glasses. That made things a little better, but it was still difficult as he rummaged through the cabinet. Finally, his hand closed on a metal tin and he pulled it back, bringing it close to his eyes and squinting.

“Aha!” he turned to the cat, holding the can aloft. “You’re in luck! I have some tuna fish.”

That cat did a little hop and Castiel chuckled. He placed the can on the counter and rummaged around once more, this time for a couple of bowls and the can opener. He filled the first bowl with water and then debated where to set it. If he put it on the floor, odds were he’d forget it was there and trip over it in the night, or even the next morning.

That was way more of a mess than he wanted to deal with when half asleep.

Frowning, he left it on the counter. That would have to do for now. It wasn’t as if the cat would stay anyway. Then he opened the can and emptied it into the second bowl, placing it by the first.

Strangely, the cat didn’t make any move to jump up on the counter, though he could have sworn it had been licking its lips.

Did cats have lips?

Shaking his head and hoping the cat wouldn’t scoot back again, Castiel reached down to pick it up. His hands closed around the furry body as he lifted it to the counter and aimed it towards the bowls. The cat sniffed it, then fell to eating the tuna fish. Castiel smiled, stroking its back for a few moments.

Eventually, though, he stopped. Heading back towards the living room with his lantern, he set about lighting the fire he had already prepped that morning. He’d fully intended on relaxing on the couch by the fire, as was his wont. The fire was a hypnotizing warmth he quite enjoyed. Different from the overbearing summer rays.

Soon the fire was crackling quite merrily and Castiel sat back on his heels, his hands resting on his knees.

Castiel lost track of how long he simply stared into the fire before he was jolted back to awareness when something brushed against him.

He’d forgotten about the cat.

It flumped to the floor before the fire and stretched out, closing its eyes blissfully as it basked in the glow of it, drying out its fur. Castiel chuckled as he reached out to stroke the cat. It didn’t flinch, but instead purred loudly and leaned into the touch.

“Guess you appreciate a good fire as much as I do,” Castiel mused, smiling happily. For the first time ever, an animal he’d reached out to felt… right. Or  _almost_ right, and he wondered if the cat would stay. Carefully, he checked about the neck of the cat and the cat blinked open its eyes and swatted at his hand.

If Castiel didn’t know better, the cat looked offended by him checking for a collar.

“Sorry,” he apologized. The cat relaxed once more, closing its eyes yet again. Castiel shook his head. This was ridiculous. Why was he apologizing to a cat?

And why had it seemed to understand him?

No, that had to be his imagination.

After a few more relaxing moments before the fire, he got back up and returned to the kitchen. Opening and closing the fridge quickly to preserve the cold, he pulled out the makings of a sandwich and set to work, grateful that he had food that didn’t require cooking.

His fireplace wasn’t exactly designed for that and he wondered if he should at least get a wood stove for the kitchen in case this happened again. It wasn’t a bad idea, but for now, he could put up with the loss of a warm meal for one night.

He was, however, missing his usual mug of hot cider.

He ate his sandwich at the small kitchen table with a melancholy air (He wasn’t pouting. Grown men who lived on their own absolutely did  _not_ pout!). When he was done, he put the plate in the sink and brushed the crumbs from his hands before picking up his lantern.

Castiel navigated the cramped hallway in the dark to the back of the house, entering his bedroom at the end of the hall. He set the lantern down and picked up the clothes he’d left at the foot of the bed and proceeded to change. Once clothed in soft, loose pants and a worn shirt with a cabled sweater pulled over top, he snagged the book from his side table and returned to the living room. He quickly ensconced himself on the old couch, dragging a couple of his grandmothers’ Afghans around himself and settled in.

Reading by the combined light of the fire and his lantern, Castiel soon felt comfortably drowsy and eventually fell asleep.

A scratching sound woke him up.

The power was still out and the fire had died down to a low, smoldering ember, most of the light now provided by the lantern. He yawned and stretched, dislodging the brown cat that had been curled up on his stomach. The cat jumped down with a dirty look as Castiel stood.

What had woken him again?

The storm had fallen into a lull, rain still pattering down on the roof, the wind not so harsh as it was, all of it gentled just enough for him to hear a scratching sound. It came again and this time he oriented on the front door. He moved to it with a frown and looked out the peep hole.

There was nobody there. He turned away, but the scratching continued, and this close to the door, he could now hear a thump and a yowl. Hurriedly, worried that something out there was hurt, Castiel opened the door.

Before he could take in anything, _something_ bowled past him, a striped blur of black and grey.

He stumbled backward and shoved the door shut and whipped around to figure out  _what_ he’d just let into his house! Wind rattled the shutters of his windows, picking up again as his heart pounded.

When his eyes landed on another cat, he blinked. It was a tabby cat with strong stripes and a husky build. Definitely bigger than the one that had followed him home. This cat had light blue eyes and was huddling in front of the fire. The brown one was hissing at it and the tabby ignored him, setting to cleaning himself.

What in the world was going on? Castiel had long since resigned himself to being pet-less, and yet now he was running a halfway house for stray cats?

The brown one hissed again, and the tabby paused in its cleaning to glare smugly at the other cat. Castiel briefly had the panicked thought that he was about to have a catfight on his hands, but the brown one didn’t seem inclined to take its aggression further.

Castiel sagged with relief and scrubbed at his face tiredly. A meow made him look up to see both cats staring at him. He fidgeted under their gaze, uncertain of what they wanted. He chuckled at himself. He was being ridiculous. It was just a pair of cats.

“Don’t worry, there’s room enough for both of you,” Castiel said, picking up his book. “But on this note, I think I better go to bed before I get even more house guests.”

*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@@*

It was still dark when Castiel’s night was once more broken by strange sounds. He came up out of a restless sleep, filled with strange dreams, to the sound of hushed voices in another room, barely heard over the storm. He stood up and followed them cautiously.

He was halfway down the hall when it occurred to him that if he was hearing voices, then someone had broken into his house. Well, several someone’s apparently. He didn’t have a tv, so it wasn’t like he could have left it on, and cats didn’t talk.

Conclusion? There were people in his house. He stumbled back into his room, searching for something – anything – he could defend himself with. His hand closed over a bat in the darkness and he snatched up with a great feel of relief.

He knew he’d kept the damn thing for _some_ reason after he’d found it in the boxes in the attic. Why his grandmother had had the bat to begin with, he’d never been able to figure out. If it had been for defense, it wouldn’t have been packed away. He’d thought it was strange at first, but now he was glad of the eccentricities of the grandmother he barely remembered.

Now armed with a bat, he crept back down the hall, the voices growing louder and more clear as he inched closer.

“Benny, you can’t _do_ this to me! He’s _my_ witch! I found him first!”

“Y’know that ain’t how it works, cher,” Benny drawled.

“I know he’s mine. He’s gotta be,” the first voice said, sounding lost and so heartbroken that it made Castiel’s own heart ache for the stranger. Which was dumb because whoever it was had  _broken into his house!_

“Dean, y’know there’s always the chance that he could –" Benny never finished.

“Don’t say that, Benny. You’ll just get my hopes up and we both know it’s not possible. There hasn’t been a witch with --” the voice choked off, shuddered and said more softly. “It’s just not  _possible._ ”

Castiel had enough of listening. His curiosity was well and truly piqued now and he was definitely confused. Whoever these men were, they didn’t sound like they were here to rob him. But they also didn’t sound quite sane…

“What’s not possible?” he growled, stalking around the corner, the bat still in his hands. “And how the hell… did… you… get… in?”

He froze at the sight of two absolutely _, perfectly_  naked men standing in his kitchen, his voice trailing off in astonishment. They turned to face him in surprise, beautiful specimens of manhood from top to bottom, obviously unphased by their own nudity.

Well.

Of all the things he might have expected, this hadn’t been one of them.

The men were of a height with each other, the green-eyed man with the freckles only slightly taller than the scruffy one with the light blue eyes.

Green Eyes was definitely taller than Castiel. He couldn’t tell about the Scruffy one. It was too close to tell.

Wait. Green eyes and light blue eyes? Staring at him at the same time. Why did that seem so familiar?

Green Eyes smirked at Castiel (which did not do funny things to him). “Hey, dude,  _you_ let us in!” he – that was Dean, from the sound of it, which would make the scruffy guy Benny - said.

Benny rolled his eyes and smacked the other upside the back of his head. “Is that any way to greet our potential witch?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. What kind of a fool did they think he was?

“Get out!” he growled, brandishing the bat. The wind outside whipped against the house and rattled the shutters.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Dean held his hands up placatingly. “You let us in. You called to us, or at least one of us. You’re a witch and you’re waking up. One of us is your familiar. You have to choose.”

“Witch? Familiar?” Castiel shook his head. He loved autumn, but why did it bring out all the crazies? Or – his blood ran cold – or they were con men. It wasn’t likely that both men were sharing the same delusion, right?

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but I promise ya, we ain’t lyin’,” Benny drawled.

“We can prove it, too,” Dean added on.

“Bull,” Castiel bit out. His voice was strong but he was starting to waver. He couldn’t actually be contemplating this, could he? Witches weren’t real, nor was magic or familiars or ghosts and goblins. They made for good stories – Castiel had an entire library of comfortable favorites – but that’s all they were. One way or the other, this couldn’t be real… could it?

“Look, we can explain everything if you let us,” Benny implored.

“Screw it,” Dean muttered. “There’s only one way he’s gonna put that bat down and listen to us.” He pushed away from the counter he was leaning against and moved towards the center of the kitchen, towards Castiel. Castiel scrambled back and raised the bat held in a white knuckled grip.

“Don’t come any closer!” he rasped.

Dean flashed him a grin and stopped. “I don’t need to. Just needed to get close enough you can get a clear view, so you can’t convince yourself your mind was playing tricks on you, or that Benny and I somehow conned you.”

Oh, Castiel had a clear view all right. Despite his confusion and fear, he couldn’t help his eyes taking in  _all_ of Dean. Too bad the man was crazy and possibly dangerous because he was damn gorgeous.

Castiel struggled to move his eyes back up Dean’s body, fighting the flush in his cheeks, when suddenly Dean was gone.

Castiel shouted and skidded back, bringing the bat in closer to his body as he scanned the kitchen for Dean - but he was gone, and where he’d stood was that brown cat.

With green eyes.

Slowly, Castiel lowered the bat. “How? How can you possibly -?” His voice came out slightly more hysterical than he planned. His head jerked up to Benny, then back to the brown cat. He looked around wildly at his own kitchen as wind whipped up against the house as if it might have an answer to the mystery in front of him.

Dean couldn’t be the cat… could he?

“D-dean?” Castiel managed to choke out. The brown cat sat carefully and stared at Castiel before giving him a slow, solemn nod, followed by a wink.

The bat slipped through nerveless fingers. Castiel stared at the cat with wide eyes before jerking his head up to look at Benny once more. There’d been _two_ cats in the house when he’d gone to sleep. And now there were two naked men.

If Dean was the _brown_ cat, did that mean that Benny…?

“Do... are you…” he gulped and stuttered to a halt, unable to make himself say the words. This was utterly ridiculous. This couldn’t possibly be happening. He was still asleep, right? Dreaming?

Benny nodded. “Aye, I am,” he said. In seconds, the big man had disappeared and the burly tabby cat from earlier had taken his place.

Cas stumbled backwards and fell to his knees in disbelief, choking down a hysterical laugh. His whole world view was being challenged and he didn’t know what to think anymore.

The two cats came up to him and rubbed against him comfortingly. He automatically reached out to stroke their fur, but his hands stuttered and froze. They weren’t  _really_ cats – they were grown men! Naked, attractive grown men – and perfect strangers to boot.

And Castiel didn’t make it a habit of putting his hands all over strange men’s bodies, no matter how attractive they were.

Even if they were currently cats.

His mind whirled, trapped in hysterical circles of meaningless thought as he struggled to comprehend just what was happening to him, right here, right now.

Something banged against the side of the house and he didn’t even react, too lost, too numb to do so.

He blinked and he was no longer in the kitchen. He was sitting on the couch, one of his afghans draped around his shoulders, huddled into it for comfort as much as for warmth. Had he blacked out? Or maybe he _had_ been dreaming, fallen asleep before the fire.

Castiel wanted to believe that, more than anything, but without even looking, he could _feel_ the presence of two warm bodies bookending him on the couch, though they were respectfully keeping their distance at the moment.

Still naked though, he realized with a slow blink as he turned his head from one side to the other, taking in their actual, physical presence.

“I have to be dreaming,” he finally said aloud, his voice flat and dull – no, no there was just the tinge of desperation there, the fear he couldn’t quite hide.

“On the contrary, you’re waking up,” Benny said in his rumbling accent. It was a thick thing that tried to wrap around Castiel like the afghan. He wanted to sink into it but… but Benny was a stranger. In his home.

“Crazy then. I’ve gone crazy, like my grandmother,” Castiel intoned.

Benny shook his head. “I assure you, you haven’t. You are a witch and we are your potential familiars. You’re not crazy and you’re not dreaming. What you are is waking up, the power sleeping inside you coming into its own, now that you’re of age. This storm is your herald. We followed the scent of your magic all the way here, like lightning and thunder and storm clouds.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, you must be mistaken. I’m no witch. I have no magic. You’re smelling the storm outside.”

“Are you kidding, dude?” Dean exclaimed from the other side of him. “You  _are_ the storm. You been bursting at the seams with it all night! I’ve never seen a fire start so quickly. There’s no fuel in your lantern but it’s still burning. Despite no power for _hours_ you still have an ice-cold fridge.”

“Your mood is affecting the weather as well,” Benny said gently. “Your inner turmoil is making itself known with every gust of wind, every deluge of water. You need to get it under control before someone gets hurt, and we can help you with that.”

“Cas,” Dean said just as gently. “I’m sorry. Someone should have been here for you, prepared you for this, for your power waking up. You shouldn’t have gone through it alone. Power like yours, it’s inherited… I don’t know why nobody told you what was going on. Your family –"

“I don’t have anyone. There’s no one left. They’re all gone. All died…” Castiel’s voice broke. “Oh God… that’s why…”

“Why what?” Dean prodded when Castiel didn’t continue.

“It explains so much…” Castiel whispered, his mind still whirling, still reeling. The half-remembered stories his grandmother had told him before his father died, before his mother had yanked him halfway across the country and away from her influence. The shove to immerse him in religion, the determination to homeschool him and isolate him from peers likely to introduce him to unsavory things such as Harry Potter or the Dark Crystal.

When Naomi had died, his eyes had opened at the world suddenly before him.

It had all been a mere tip of the proverbial iceberg. The stories and books he read, just a hint of the real thing.

Was that why he was so fascinated by it all? Had he known, somehow, that it was real? All of it?

Was he really a witch? But… but what did that _mean_?

“It doesn’t really mean _anything_ ,” Dean murmured, threading a hand through Cas’s hair, the other curled around to press against Castiel’s back, pulling him into an embrace. When had that happened and why didn’t he feel more awkward than he did? “Do you ask a cat what it means to be a cat? The cat just is. What does it mean to be a dog or a tree? They just are.”

“But… but that doesn’t… they all have a place in the world,” Castiel struggled to put his thoughts into words. Except Dean had already read his thoughts, right? “Trees make oxygen, provide shade. Dogs provide comfort. What is a witch? What am I supposed to do?”

“There’s no need for you to do anything other than to be yourself. You need to learn how to control your power, and you need to bond to a familiar, but other than that,” Benny said with a shrug, rubbing a hand over Cas’s arm, finding it unerringly despite it being hidden under the afghan. “You’re just you. The same man you always were, but with new knowledge.”

“Look, one of us here is your familiar. And as soon as pick one and you bond with… with that one, then your familiar will be able to siphon off your excess energy, help you learn how to control your power. That’s what _we_ do,” Dean said. “That’s _our_ place in the world.”

“And if you find there’s a skill you learn that you want to use to help people… than that’s what you’ll do. It could be something as simple as writing down your knowledge, or making potions, or helping the land around you grow and prosper,” Benny said. “Being a witch doesn’t have to be a scary thing, I promise.”

Castiel nodded, pulling the afghan tighter about himself, wishing the fire hadn’t gone almost out.

Nearly as soon as he wished that, it flared brighter and Dean laughed as he jumped and they all turned to look at it.

“See? I told you. Bursting at the seams,” he chortled.

“You’re naked,” Castiel blurted suddenly. Not that he’d forgotten – how could he possibly? – but it was all he could think of solidly while his mind tried to adjust to this new impossible reality.

“Oh… heh, yeah, guess we are,” Dean said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Apologies,” Benny said with a flush. “Clothes don’t exactly make the shift with us.” He looked around and his eyes fell on the other afghans Castiel had left piled in a lump when he’d gone to bed, and Benny dragged one over his lap with a wince, glaring at Dean till he did the same. “This better?”

Castiel nodded, then shook his head, hysteria trying to bubble out once more.

“Breathe, take your time,” Dean said. “We know it’s a lot to take in. Even for someone that knows it’s coming, it can be a lot.”

Nodding again, Castiel closed his eyes and breathed. He followed both of their breaths which were strangely in sync. When he finally felt calm enough, he opened his eyes.

“So, now what?”

“Now… you choose,” Dean said sadly.

“Dean, it could be both of us –" Benny insisted.

“Dude, we’re not that lucky. It’s not going to be  _us_. There can only be _one_ of us.”

“Explain,” Castiel demanded. Dean sighed.

“All witches have a familiar. Somehow, the right one always seems to be close by when an awakening happens. We get drawn to our witch and then,” Dean shrugged. “You bond. But it’s always one witch, one familiar.”

“It has happened that there were witches strong enough to need two –" Benny started, “And we both felt drawn here – “

“Benny, dammit, I know you want to spare my feelings, but as soon as he chooses one of us loses out, so just… just stop,” Dean stood and paced away to stand before the fire, having the common courtesy to bring the afghan with him and wrapping it around his waist.

“There hasn’t been a witch with two familiars in, like, ever. Its only ever in stories. And this, this isn’t a story, Benny. So, it’s not happening. What’s probably going on is…” Dean halted and sighed, leaning his head on the stone mantle of the fireplace. “This mix up probably only happened cause we’ve already…”

“You’ve already what?” Castiel asked, looking between the two men when Dean trailed off and said nothing more.

Dean winced and he turned. “Look, I don’t know how you feel about this sort of thing, hell, we still don’t even know your name – “

“Castiel, or Cas,” Castiel interjected.

“Cas,” Dean said, and the way he said it made Castiel shiver. Nobody seemed to notice, thankfully. He shook his head. “Right, anyway, Benny and I – we actually know each other – “

“That much has been obvious,” Castiel noted.

“Right, right,” Dean said, running a hand through his hair.

“Cher, just spit it out,” Benny said, standing to join Dean, placing a hand comfortingly in the small of his back. Pieces fell into place.

“Wait,” Castiel blurted, his eyes wide. “Are you two together?”

“Aye, we are,” Benny said. “And as familiars we’ve… it’s not quite a bond, not like that of a witch and a familiar, but we’ve connected with each other on a level that most people do not. Sometimes that means we feel what the others feeling, so Dean believes…”

“That one of you felt the bond in truth, and the other felt the bond through your connection?” Castiel ventured.

“Exactly,” Benny rumbled out.

“I can see how that would be… demoralizing,” Castiel said slowly. He felt disappointed, knowing that both men were already taken. _Wait, what?_ He didn’t even _know_ them! Why should he care? “And I have to choose one of you? How do I know which one of you is the right one?”

Benny and Dean exchanged glances.

“Good question,” Dean answered. “As far as I know, something like this has never happened before. Witch wakes up, we follow the call, we bond. Bing, bang, boom.”

Benny rolled his eyes, but nodded. “That is, essentially, how it goes.”

“And how does the bond happen?” Castiel asked nervously. He wasn’t really thinking this, was he? He wasn’t really going to _do_ this? Magic wasn’t real... he looked over at the fire, listened to the wind battering the house… or maybe it was… could he really deny the evidence of his eyes and ears?

“It’s simple, like, stupidly simple,” Dean said, walking back over to the couch and kneeling before Castiel. Benny followed, crouching beside him.

“It’s so simple, it can be done by accident, but we’ve been careful not to initiate anything until you were ready,” Benny said. “It requires a bit of soul gazing – staring directly, unflinchingly into each other’s eyes – with some skin to skin contact. Nothing big, hand holding would suffice.”

Slowly, Castiel let his afghan drop back to free his hands. He grasped both Dean and Benny’s hand, though Dean tried to pull away. A tingle seemed to flow between them, of equal power. If he was supposed to choose, he didn’t see how.

Keeping his eyes cast low, he asked, “How long?”

“How long… how long do we hold hands? Stare into teach others eyes?” Dean asked, his voice shaking. Castiel could feel a small tremble in his fingers. Benny was more confident, Castiel thought at first, till he noticed the sweating.

They were both nervous as hell, but Castiel could absolutely understand that, because so was he. This would change his whole life – already _was_ changing his whole life. And it would change theirs too. In addition to gaining a familiar, whether he bonded with Dean or Benny wouldn’t matter, it seemed they were a package deal.

Dean seemed so positive that Castiel had to choose. The more time he spent with them, however, the more he realized… he didn’t want to.

Not that he didn’t want to choose one of them but that he didn’t want to choose _between_ them.

It didn’t feel right, choosing between them. But how would he bond with both of them? They, or at least Dean, seemed so certain that he couldn’t, and after all, he could only stare into one set of eyes at a time.

He had a feeling that if he chose Benny first, Dean would simply give up, so he took a breath, angled his head towards Dean and looked up.

Benny was right.

It didn’t take long at all. Nearly as soon as their eyes met the room began to spin, the tingling between their held hands became a livewire and Castiel gasped. He fell into the green depths before him, seeing a black car, a young teenager with floppy hair and an older man in ballcap, all gathered at a salvage yard. There was a lick of flames on the edges and a cacophony of other images that Castiel held no hope of catching, snatches of music he almost recognized playing through his head.

An emotion bled through that wasn’t his own, a dazed wonder edged with guilt.

It was then Castiel could feel the tugging on his hand as Benny tried to take his back, having believed that Castiel had made his choice.

Reluctantly, wanting more time to explore but knowing somehow that this was crucial to do as fast as he could, Castiel blinked his eyes away from Dean’s and turned to meet Benny’s pale blue eyes.

It happened just as fast, Castiel still dizzy from the first time. The tingling became just as electric between them as it had with Dean and he fell again. This time he saw cool, green forests and marshes, a gumbo shack emanating the most delicious smells, a woman who turned her back. Just as before, the images came too fast for him to parse. But then a flood of relief washed through him and he knew it was Benny.

When he shook himself up and out, the three of them stared at each other, awe, happiness and confusion rebounding between the three of them.

Castiel looked down, finding their hands still in his and he smiled giddily.

“It worked,” he croaked, looking back up at them.

Dean stared at him in awe, tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. “It did,” he said quietly before laughing. “Holy shit, it did! Benny, I’m sorry I ever doubted you!”

“That’s all right, cher,” Benny said softly, sending Dean a gentle grin while squeezing Cas’s hand. “You were scared. I know I talked a good game, but so was I. I’m willin’ to bet, so was Cas, here.”

Castiel nodded. “I was. It felt right to try for both of you, but I was scared it wouldn’t work. What if I did something wrong? It’s not like I know anything about what is and what isn’t possible, except for what you both of have told me.”

“You’re incredible,” Dean breathed out, breaking into a large grin.

“Thank you,” Castiel said shyly, blushing and ducking his head. “So, um… now what? You said you’d help me control myself?”

“Already happening,” Benny said, nudging him with a naked shoulder, his borrowed afghan having slipped off. Castiel turned his attention to the window, only noticing then the absence of a howling wind, of the strong downpour he’d grown accustomed to hearing over the last few hours. Light even started filtering through the partially closed curtains and he could swear he heard birdsong.

“The storm has stopped,” he realized slowly. “It’s dawn?”

“It is.” Benny yawned and Dean followed suit. Castiel couldn’t help joining in. “As for what happens now, we get to know each other. These first few days are crucial to our bonds, learning how we fit together.”

Castiel was suddenly thinking of all the ways he’d like them to all ‘fit together’ and he blushed. It was inappropriate to think of the two strangers that way, and besides, they already had each other. What need they of him? What did familiars get out of this arrangement anyway?

Dean snorted and shoved at Benny. “Dude, go easy on him, he doesn’t know how to keep emotions out of the bond yet.”

Going white, Castiel froze and stared at them with wide eyes. “W-what?” he choked out.

“Easy, cher, easy,” Benny said, reaching for him. “The bond is new and we already have a sort of experience at such things, so all our emotions are reaching out for each other through the bond. To you it’s likely a mess, but to us, we already have a fair handle on who’s sending what out. And uh, you don’t need to be embarrassed or guilty for findin’ us both attractive.”

“It’s rather flattering, actually,” Dean piped in with a grin. “And to be fair since everything’s likely too muddled for you to tell, feelings mutual.”

“But… you two are already together! I’d be intruding on an already established relationship!” Castiel protested weakly.

“It’s only intruding if we aren’t interested in return,” Dean said.

Benny hummed his agreement. “This arrangement is already outside the normal witch/familiar dynamic. The community won’t know what to make of us and, call it a hunch, but I have a feeling we’ll be breaking a few more ‘rules’ along the way. If we find that the three of us fit together in more ways than one, well, who’s it gonna hurt, as long as we’re all happy?”

Castiel stared at the two men, the afghans still draped haphazardly over their bodies, expanses of skin peeking through here and there. They looked back at him earnestly and already he could feel loneliness he hadn’t even realized had been smothering him breaking away.

Tears pricked at his eyes, but they were happy ones.

It felt like a hole in his life had just been filled, one he’d never even known was there. He opened his mouth to try and say something, to let them know how much this meant to him, but they only smiled back with knowing eyes before standing and pulling him to his feet.

“C’mon,” Dean said. “We’re all a bit exhausted and wrung out. Let’s all get some sleep.”

Cas’s eyes widened and he spluttered. “Uh… I only… there’s only one bed and… and it’s not big enough for 3 grown men,” he squeaked, trying not to look at exposed skin or think any of the things his mind had been thinking since he first saw them naked.

Apparently, they could ‘hear’ those thoughts, or at least feel them.

He blushed darkly as Benny let out a belly laugh, leaning on Dean. It was something to see and Castiel hoped he got to see a lot of it. Dean rolled his eyes and shot Benny an affectionate glare. When Benny finally calmed down, he straightened up, winked and let the afghan drop. Before Castiel could do more than gape, the same tabby cat from before was looking up at him.

“Oh!” Castiel let out a breath of relief. As much as he was interested in them, he would rather like to get to know them better before sharing a bed with two naked men.

 _Two cats_ , on the other hand, was different.

Even though it really wasn’t, for now he could fool himself into thinking of them as ordinary cats and ease himself into things. He yawned, his mouth cracking his face wide and Dean turned him about and steered him out of his own living room.

Soon enough, Castiel was ensconced under the blankets of his bed, his glasses safely on the side table, his eyes closing sleepily as he tucked his hands up under his pillow and drew his knees up. The large tabby curled against his back and the chocolate brown cat settled along his chest. Purring from both sides lulled an already sleepy Castiel right off into dreamland, feeling more right than he had in _years_.

He was a witch with two familiars and though nothing should make sense anymore, now everything _did_ make sense. He couldn’t wait to see how things developed from here.

Castiel fell asleep with a smile on his face and hope in his dreams.

 

 


End file.
